Page 59 of The Slug Crystal

Two hours and four bottles of wine later, we've abandoned traditional rules entirely.

The board sits neglected on the coffee table, surrounded by empty wine glasses and the crumbs of focaccia we'd torn apart to soak up the alcohol.

Rain continues its steady assault on the windows, casting the room in a gray-blue light that feels simultaneously intimate and conspiratorial.

"This is boring," Ben announces after correctly answering a question about 1980s Italian cinema. "We need higher stakes."

Marco raises an eyebrow. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

Ben's smile is slow and deliberate, his eyes finding mine before scanning the room. "Strip trivia. Get a question wrong, lose an item of clothing."

A beat of silence follows, broken only by the rain's persistent drumming. I feel Jake tense beside me, Marco's scholarly expression shifts to careful consideration, and Luca's smile widens with predictable enthusiasm.

"I'm in," I say before I can overthink it, the wine buzzing pleasantly through my veins. "Unless you boys are scared that I'll see you naked before dinner while I keep all my clothes."

"Not scared," Jake says, his voice lower than usual. "Just making sure this is what you want."

Something in his protective concern ignites a competitive flame in me. "I want to win," I tell him, holding his gaze. "And I'm very, very good at trivia."

Luca laughs, refilling glasses around the circle. "Then it's settled. New rules, new game."

The first few rounds remain surprisingly tame. A collection of shoes and socks is discarded. Marco answers a question wrong and decides to lose his sweater, folding it neatly on the arm of the couch. Ben dramatically removes his watch as if it's a precious garment when he loses the next round.

There’s good-natured teasing all around, but the mood shifts perceptibly when I miss a question about Italian geography, and reach for the hem of my sweater instead of removing my bracelet.

"That doesn’t seem like the wisest next choice,” Marco points out, eyes widening as I pull the material over my head, revealing the simple black bra beneath.

"My game, my choice," I reply, enjoying the sudden stillness in the room, the way four pairs of eyes track the movement before politely shifting away, or not so politely staring in Luca’s case. Luca doesn't bother hiding his appreciation, his gray eyes lingering until I raise an eyebrow at him.

Jake's jaw tightens, but there's heat behind his concern now. Marco adjusts his glasses, a gesture I've come to recognize as his way of processing something unexpected. And Ben… Ben just grins, raising his glass in a silent toast before taking his turn.

"Geography clearly isn't your strong suit," he teases. "Let's see how you do with entertainment."

The game accelerates after that. Marco's button-down joins my sweater on the growing pile of discarded clothing.

Luca makes a show of removing his shirt, flexing subtly as he tosses it aside.

Ben loses his jeans after failing to name Italy's prime minister during a specific historical period, leaving him in just boxer briefs that do little to hide his interest in the proceedings.

Jake holds out longest, his methodical approach to questions keeping him mostly clothed until a particularly difficult science question from Marco forces him to remove his shirt.

I try not to stare at the defined muscles of his chest, the result of years of disciplined training and sports, but I fail spectacularly .

"Eyes on the game, Hartley," Ben teases, noticing my distraction. "Unless you're hoping to lose that bra next."

"In your dreams, Clark," I retort, though the thought sends a treacherous heat through me.

From his perch on the bookshelf, Alex's terrarium catches the gray light, the blue snail methodically exploring his enclosure. A pang of guilt cuts through my wine-warm pleasure, quickly suppressed as Luca asks me a question about Italian wine regions.

"Barolo comes from Piedmont," I answer correctly.

Jake is not as lucky with his next question, forcing him to remove his jeans as forfeit.

The room grows warmer despite the rain outside, or perhaps because of it.

The combination of closed windows, the bodies gradually being revealed, and the wine flowing freely between questions is culminating in a steamy heat both inside my body and the room.

I lose my jeans after missing a question about Italian architecture, leaving me in just my black bra and matching underwear.

The air against my bare skin feels electric, charged with possibility.

"Challenge round on Italian history," Marco announces, his scholarly tone at odds with his state of undress—down to just his boxers, his lean, defined frame on display. "In what year did Giuseppe Garibaldi lead the Expedition of the Thousand to conquer the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies?"

I straighten, suddenly alert. "1860," I answer without hesitation. "May 11th, specifically. They landed at Marsala and ultimately united southern Italy with the north."

Marco's eyebrows rise in genuine surprise. "That's... completely correct. How did you?—"

"College elective on European unification," I explain, unable to keep the triumph from my voice. "I wrote my final paper on Garibaldi."

"Which means..." Luca gestures dramatically toward Jake and Ben, who lost the previous round and now face the consequence of my correct answer. A new twist we added once we were all mostly unclothed.

"Off with them," I command, the power of the moment going straight to my head.

Jake hesitates, his blue eyes finding mine with a question in them. Ben has no such reservations, hooking his thumbs in his waistband and sliding his boxers down in one fluid motion.

"Your turn, Martinez," he challenges, completely unashamed in his nakedness.

Something shifts in Jake's expression. Like a decision made to cross a line he didn’t expect. He stands, removing his boxers with less flair but equal impact. The room goes still, the only sound the persistent rain against the windows and my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

"Happy now?" Jake asks, his voice rough at the edges.

I can't look away from him. From either of them, if I'm honest. Ben's body is unexpectedly defined and muscular, with a scattering of freckles across his shoulders. Jake is more solid, his athletic build powerful and controlled even in stillness.

Both are visibly affected by the game and by my gaze, or by the charged atmosphere we've created. Their hardened cocks sit against their stomachs, and neither of them moves to cover themselves.

Something reckless and wonderful takes hold of me. I rise from my seat, crossing to Jake in three quick steps. His surprise melts into heat as I press against him, my hands finding his shoulders, my lips meeting his in a kiss that's been building since our time in the museum closet.

Jake responds immediately, his hands spanning my waist and drawing me closer.

His kiss is exactly like him, steady, thorough, and attentive to my reactions.

When we break apart, both breathing hard, I turn without thinking to find Ben watching us, his expression a complex mix of desire and challenge.

I take two steps toward him, maintaining eye contact as I close the distance. "Your turn," I murmur, echoing his earlier challenge to Jake.

Ben's smile is triumphant as he meets me halfway, his kiss is entirely different. Ben is playful, testing, with a hint of bite that sends shivers down my spine. His hands thread through my hair, angling my head to deepen the connection.

When I finally pull back, the room is charged with expectation, with possibility, with the decision that hangs in the air between us all.

Marco and Luca watch from the couch, their expressions a mixture of heat and curiosity.

The rain drums against the windows, nature's percussion to the racing of my heart.

"Emma," Jake's voice is low, questioning. Ben's hand remains at the small of my back, warm and steady.

Lightning flashes, briefly illuminating the room in stark white. In that frozen moment, I make my choice.

“Both," I whisper, the single word cutting through the tension like lightning through storm clouds. "I want you both." Jake's eyes widen slightly, but it's the smile that spreads across Ben's face, a mix of triumph and hunger, that sends a shiver down my spine.

I move toward the plush area rug in the center of the room, sinking to my knees in silent invitation.

From the couch, Marco and Luca watch with undisguised interest, making no move to join but clearly unwilling to leave.

The rain intensifies against the windows, a rhythmic soundtrack to what's about to happen.

Jake reaches me first, his movements controlled despite his obvious arousal. He kneels behind me, one hand tracing the curve of my spine while the other gently sweeps my hair to one side, exposing my neck to his lips .

"You're sure?" he murmurs against my skin, ever the protector even now.

Before I can answer, Ben drops to the carpet in front of me, his green eyes glittering with mischief. "She's sure," he says, reaching to trace my lower lip with his thumb. "Aren't you, Emma?"

In response, I lean forward to kiss him, gasping as Jake simultaneously unclasps my bra, his warm hands sliding around to cup my breasts. The dual sensation of Ben's playful lips and Jake's steady touch sends electricity racing through me, and my body arches between them like a bow strung tight.

Ben breaks the kiss to watch as Jake caresses me, his expression appreciative. "Beautiful," he murmurs, before dipping his head to replace Jake's fingers with his mouth on one breast. The hot, wet suction draws a moan from me that echoes in the rain-hushed room.